


Too Many Wild Hearts Lay Broken

by skullage



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:37:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skullage/pseuds/skullage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a lesson in there, somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Many Wild Hearts Lay Broken

The first thing Zayn noticed when Harry and Louis walked into his room was that they smelled like sex. Straight up, they smelled like they just fucked. Their slap-happy grins and the moony-eyed looks they gave each other told Zayn more than he needed to know. He rolled his eyes at their wilful obliviousness and turned back to the mirror to finish fixing his hair.

When Louis saw him – really, he’d walked into Zayn’s room, acting almost surprised to find him in it – he let out a low whistle.

“Goodness Zayn, if we knew you were putting on a show, we’d have brought snacks.”

Zayn didn’t bother to pull on a shirt just for modesty. He had a pre-date ritual, timed almost to the minute, and his shirt was the last thing he put on, right after cologne and brushing his teeth. Besides, it was nothing they hadn’t seen before, and the light-hearted teasing was expected. Living on the road the way they did, they were allowed to get comfortable; modesty was a luxury no one could be bothered to hang onto.

“Got a date with the Queen of Sheba,” he replied, adding the finishing touches of gel and product with a fine-toothed comb.

“Another twitter friend?” Harry teased. “You should be careful about that, one day it’s gonna turn out to be a pedo. Or like, a cop busting you for hooking up with underage girls.”

“Which would be hilarious, by the way,” Louis added. “So when it happens, don’t forget to tell us everything.”

Zayn gave Harry an affronted look. “What is it with you and pedos, mate? It’s developing into a complex. Besides,” he added, turning back to the mirror once more, “I keep it strictly legal. And I’m too pretty to go to prison. That stuff only happens in all that crap telly you watch.”

“I’ll have you know, CSI is a very reputable program,” Louis shot back, mock-offended.

It was usual behaviour, the banter, the way they made themselves at home as if there wasn’t two other rooms they could be lounging in, even the slap on his arse Louis gave Zayn as he made his way to the bed. In the mirror, Zayn watched his reflection sprawl across it, messing it up, throwing the pillows around until he got comfortable.

“You know you could do that in your own room, right? You’re disrupting my space.”

Harry had begun fiddling with Zayn’s desk, picking up the bottles of lotion and hair-care products, sniffing them and setting them back down in the wrong spot. It was like they were biologically programmed to be as annoying as each other. Perfect couple, really.

“We already messed up two motel rooms today, we’re going for the hat trick.” Harry reached out a hand, attempting to smear mousse across Zayn’s lip.

Zayn batted him away and pulled a face when the words sank in. “If you guys do it in my room, I swear, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

Louis barked a laugh from under the fortress of pillows he’d stacked around himself. “I’m trembling.” When Zayn shot him a venomous glare, Louis straightened, feigned sincerity, and amended, “I swear, Harry and I won’t use your room for our ‘special alone time’.”

“Again,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“Oh my god,” Zayn exhaled, as Louis and Harry burst out laughing. “You guys are sick.”

“Aw, Harry. That was mean.”

“Kidding!”

“How about, we won’t use your room for sex without you?” Louis winked suggestively. Zayn ignored it.

When he turned away from the dresser he had to squeeze between Harry and the end of the bed to get through, catching another whiff of the stink that covered him like he’d been bathing in a vat of it. Eu de gay sex. Not for the first time, Zayn wondered how they could walk around like that, completely unashamed. It wasn’t that Zayn had a problem with it, but with management coming down so hard on them in the last few weeks, he’d assumed they would at least try to censor themselves. They didn’t, though. Zayn noticed – it was hard not to. Even now it seemed they were almost too casual about it, flaunting it in everyone’s face. He had to admire them their audacity, at the very least.

The thing was, Zayn really didn’t have a problem with it. His irritation and awkwardness around them stemmed from, mostly, how irritating they were, but also from the feeling that maybe he should have a problem with it. That Harry’s sex-mussed hair and raw, bitten lips should have made him feel the complete opposite of what he was feeling as his arm grazed Harry’s stomach. Harry didn’t even make a move to give him space. It must have been deliberate, judging by the way he tracked Zayn’s movement across the room. It could have meant something, or nothing, or any number of Harry-things that were untranslatable to the general population, but instead of deciphering it, Zayn locked himself in the bathroom and finished dressing for his date.

 

~

 

When Zayn got back to the hotel after several hours of boring small-talk and terrible Italian that made for a disappointing and sex-free date, he found the rest of the lads curled up asleep in various positions around his room.

He toed off his shoes and set his stuff down as quietly as he could as not to wake them, but when he made his way over, almost tripping over Niall passed out on the floor holding an empty pizza box, Louis raised his head.

“Ah, the triumphant king returns,” Louis called softly. “One step further from virginity, my friend. And your hair is still as perfectly styled as ever. You’ll have to tell me your secret, young Zayn.”

Zayn huffed out a laugh. “Nah, mate, nothing happened. Not that kind of night, y’know?”

Louis’s smile dropped, but his look softened, and he nodded solemnly. There were bags under his eyes, even though it was barely eleven o’clock. One of his arms was trapped under Harry’s head where they lay together. The soft breathing of Harry and Niall filled the room, Liam snoring where he lay at the foot of the bed.

“Were you spooning on my bed?” Zayn tried for offended, but couldn’t muster the energy to make it sound convincing.

Louis shot him a cheeky grin before he rolled Harry over to make room, and Zayn took up the invitation – even though it was to his own bed, and he’d yet to shower or brush his teeth. He stripped off and settled in anyway, indulging in Louis’s complete lack of personal space boundaries as they sidled up close. He smelled nicer, like humidity and soap. Zayn tried not to think too hard about the fact that Louis was only in his boxers, bare skin pressing against Zayn’s. Harry would probably be naked, a state that came as naturally to him as looking cute, and Zayn tried not to think about that, either.

“What are we watching?” Zayn whispered. Subtitles flashed up on the screen. He was already losing interest.

“Documentary on sea turtles,” Louis replied. On screen a couple made out while a city square exploded in the background and someone yelled in what sounded like French. A Vespa went flying.

After a few minutes of watching only-Louis-knew-what with his head on Zayn’s shoulder and the reassuring, steady breathing of everyone else in the room, Zayn settled further back into the mattress. The need for sleep hit him like a realisation, forcing its way out of him in a yawn. Louis cottoned on and rolled, curling himself around Harry, his back to Zayn, and heaved a contented sigh.

An idea struck Zayn then, more powerful than the need for sleep. He rolled as well, slid close enough to put his arm around Louis’s waist, and fit their bodies together the way his and Harry’s were. It felt – natural. Normal. Shared body heat and warm skin. An unconscious weight in Zayn’s chest lifted itself and he shut his eyes, ready for sleep in seconds.

Before he konked, Louis spoke up.

“Zayn?”

“Yeah?”

“You mind turning the telly off?”

 

~

 

It was becoming a theme, Zayn noticed – walking into his room to find it already occupied. This time it was by just Harry, lying on the bed, eyes glued to the phone in his hand, and completely naked. Zayn hovered in the doorway, feeling uncertain and a little bit out of his depth, for no discernible reason.

“Oi,” he called out, walking further inside. He’d just come back from a morning run and, looking at Harry, felt overdressed in his sweats and jumper. How Harry didn’t feel the cold he didn’t know. The boy was a hot water bottle at the best of times, but as Zayn’s heartbeat slowed, even through his layers he felt the nip in the air.

“Hey,” Harry called back, not looking away from his phone.

“Where are the rest?”

Zayn had left early, before the sun rose and they were all still asleep. It was a bit of a shock to find he expected them to still be there, huddled together in his room, waiting for him to join them. It was probably a lot unhealthier than it felt. He would have preferred the buffer to Harry’s stark nakedness and the feeling that he shouldn’t be so uncomfortable around such a familiar sight.

He glanced away before Harry caught him staring.

“Breakfast. Niall wanted chilli dogs.”

“Course he did. That boy is a machine. Didn’t he say he wasn’t gonna stop eating ‘til he tried one of everything?”

“He might stop when he gets to rooster balls.”

Zayn peeled off his jumper and shirt and threw them into the corner of the room, onto the pile of unwashed clothes. Finally, Harry looked up at him.

“Last night go well? Not a pedo, then?”

Zayn laughed. “Thought you’d have enough on your plate, wouldn’t need to live vicariously through me.”

Harry shrugged and Zayn shook his head. A moment of uncomfortable silence followed in which Harry seemed to stare right through him, and Zayn tried not to stare back.

“Gonna have a shower,” he announced, apropos of nothing and, again, hid himself in the bathroom, where he absolutely didn’t think about Harry and turn the cold water up fully.

He certainly didn’t take longer than usual just to wait for the others to get back before he was comfortable enough to face Harry again. The familiar shout of Niall’s “put some damn clothes on, no one wants to see it” echoed through the walls, and Zayn heaved a sigh for familiarity.

 

~

 

The thoughts dragged him down like jetlag, permanently set into his bones. Distraction was easy enough to come by, but by the time they were halfway through the American leg of the tour, they were so used to the routine of interviews, signings, shows, crowds, travelling, vocal coaching, and stage coaching that distraction didn’t last long. It wasn’t permanent. Zayn’s confliction proved a stronger worry. He didn’t let himself dwell, but it was taxing, spending every moment in Harry and Louis’s company, experiencing their relationship as an outsider, only enough to realise he wanted more. More of everything – when the cameras were off and the days died down to whispers in darkened rooms, noises in the middle of the night, stolen chances that echoed through the tour bus and left Zayn aching. There was no real chance for any of them to get away from each other, from the things that went unsaid but still lingered in the silence.

The thing was, Zayn was unashamed about sex. He took it where it was consensual and legal, and left it behind when he was done. The only baggage he carried was stored under the bus. He was good at compartmentalising, happy when things were kept under control. It was only fitting then that the people who came and cocked it all up were Louis and Harry. Two of the four people outside of his family that he cared about most in the world. His new family.

Which was why, even though he’d acknowledged and analysed the situation, there wasn’t a damn thing he could have done about it.

 

~

 

All throughout the second half of the concert Zayn tried to focus on his solo, pitch it perfect, belt it out just right to make up for screwing up at least twice and his voice wavering under the pressure. Liam noticed and stuck close throughout his own solo, because that’s what Liam does, but even his reassurance couldn’t distract him from it. Across the other side of the stage Louis and Harry were stuck to each other, trading whispers and meaningful looks that weren’t even lost on Zayn let alone the crowd, who lost it when Harry started singing.

No wonder, too. Harry was on fire. His voice carried through the wall of noise from the crowd as clear as Zayn had ever heard it, and powerful enough that it sent shivers up his arms. Behind him Louis clapped, riling up the crowd, threw his arms up as they joined in, tipped his imaginary hat when Harry finished and turns to him with a fond, almost embarrassed smile that made Louis crack up. It was honestly the most sickening thing Zayn had ever seen. They were so disgustingly perfect for each other that it made Zayn’s head hurt just thinking of all the forces that pushed them together and culminated in this moment on stage, this night, this tour, their present. How amazing it was that they took the best parts of the group -- trust, loyalty, unconditional love -- added something more, and made it work.

Harry caught his eye from across the stage and his smile brightened. He motioned to bring Zayn over, grabbed Louis’s arm and dragged him across the stage as Zayn took Liam’s hand, as Liam took Niall’s, and they met in the middle to belt out the chorus together. Somewhere there was a lesson about wishful thinking, but all Zayn could hear was their harmonized voices and when Harry placed a hand around his neck he could feel it, thrumming through his blood, from Harry’s body through his, just how lucky they were.

 

~

 

They cornered him in his motel room one night, so out of the blue it could only have been staged. Zayn walked in to find them lying facing each other on his bed, so lost in each other that for the first few moments even the familiarity of finding his room occupied was overtaken by the feeling that he was intruding. It happened a lot, those moments – Harry and Louis could literally zone out during an interview or even, more rarely, onstage, just staring at each other or when one reached out and the other reached back instinctively, as if just the touch of skin was enough to ground them. Zayn knew firsthand how an innocuous touch reflected the primal and sexual need for comfort – even if, between the two of them, it was something more than that, something meaningful. Often he looked away, pretended not to see how obvious they were; he pretended that it didn’t affect him the way it.

Right now they weren’t touching. Louis lay on his side, propped up by an elbow, while Harry lounged on his back, staring up at him. Even with their clothing still on and lying on top of the covers, it was intimate. Once Zayn felt it he almost left immediately, having grown so awkward around them that he couldn’t stand to be in the same room when it was happening, innocuous or not. But his body betrayed him; his feet didn’t move, and his heartbeat raced. They glanced over and Zayn coughed nervously.

“Sorry guys, didn’t realise I was interrupting your slumber party.”

He meant to say, I’ll leave you to it, I’ll get out of your way, but the words didn’t happen. He could feel the cloud of expectation and tension hang in the room. Even before Louis spoke it pressed down on him, demanding his attention.

“We’ve been waiting for you, actually.”

“Need more condoms?” Zayn joked weakly. “’Cause you don’t have to come to me guys, I’m sure Paul would do you a solid and go on a supply run.” He was sure. Paul had done it for him, once or twice.

They glanced at each other in silence. Harry sat up gracefully, untangling his long limbs, plucking at his baggy sweater in a show of getting comfortable. He tucked one leg underneath himself to make room at the end of the bed as Louis said, “take a seat. We should talk.”

The words might have sounded like a warning or an interrogation if it had been anyone but Louis, if there wasn’t a discernible glint of something mischievous in his eyes. It hid his smile. It was seductive, the way he let you wonder, the way he brought out his smirk without even using his mouth and made anything, even an insult, into an invitation. Zayn sat, gripped too tightly by the anticipation to do anything but obey. Already his pretence of control was shot out of the sky.

“Right,” he started. “About?”

“We know,” Louis said, speaking for the both of them. “And we’re fine with it.”

Feigning ignorance was, at that moment, the best defence Zayn could think of. It was overwhelming – but, he supposed, not entirely surprising – to have been caught out. As a group, they could never hide anything from each other, but it was all too appealing, despite the pull in his chest and ache in his groin, to back away, to hide in the bathroom until it blew over and he could look them in the eye again.

When he glanced at Harry, those thoughts disappeared. It was the bite of his lip and the way he fiddled self-consciously with the hem of his jumper that did Zayn in. Harry was seductive in his own right. Zayn was just a sucker.

“So, you know,” Zayn clarified. Harry’s expression lightened.

“Bit obvious, mate.” His first words of the night.

Louis was grinning, now. “Too obvious.”

“We just thought,” Harry drawled, and god, even that was turning Zayn on, “might be a good idea to, y’know–”

“Not leave you in suspense,” Louis finished.

“Help a friend out.”

“A helping hand, if you will.”

They were actually enjoying this. Zayn’s life: even he didn’t believe it.

“Well, like, that’s really good and all–”

“But what are we going to do about it?”

“Yeah.”

Harry and Louis glanced at each other, and then back to him. Harry shifted closer, brought his hand up to cup Zayn’s neck with a grin Zayn couldn’t help but be fond of, and pressed their mouths together. He tasted like toothpaste and kissed like he was drowning in it. It left Zayn hungry, despite the softness of it – it was a kiss you’d have in the rain under a streetlamp, not exactly porno-worthy, even though Louis was watching.

“Wow, um,” Zayn started when he pulled back, eloquent as always. Harry searched his expression, gazing right into him with caution and awe, waiting for him to finish. Nothing else sprang to mind, so Zayn kissed him again, let Harry be the one to take it deeper. He did, eventually, sighing into Zayn’s mouth, meeting his tongue and sucking on it until they were both short of breath. Ok, it was a bit like a porno after all.

Harry pushed him back on the bed, still kissing him, and let their bodies press together with the movement. Zayn had to stop himself from instinctively pulling him closer. There was no protocol Zayn had ever heard of for hooking up with your best friends, no rules for what exactly he was allowed or supposed to do, so he just went with it and wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist. Immediately Harry relaxed, went liquid at Zayn’s touch, and just that simple movement sent heat through him. They shifted to get comfortable, Harry huffing softly under his breath. Zayn took it as a sign of enjoyment. He splayed a hand on Harry’s back and that kicked him into gear, running his hands down Zayn’s sides, along the line of his trousers, kissing him with more urgency than Zayn had ever seen from him. Usually he was docile, energetic only when he was onstage or mucking around; but this was a side Zayn had never experienced himself. It drove him a little batshit, but that, at least, was familiar. He could hold onto that while he was slowly losing it over Harry’s mouth.

They heard a soft noise behind them and Harry pulled away to glance over his shoulder. Louis lounged back with a casual ease that was entirely genuine and envy-worthy, idly scratching his stomach.

“You wanna join in?” Harry asked.

Louis’s lip twitched in a smile. “I’m fine. You keep going.”

He looked at Zayn then, winked as Harry turned back and put his lips on Zayn’s neck. Zayn realised what it was – a power play. That Louis was watching like a king on his throne, a ringleader, revelling in the eagerness with which Harry complied to his every word and how easily Zayn had gone along with it, too. The truth was that Louis was the ringleader, in every respect: always the one with a dangerous plan, every sentence he spoke a dare or a challenge, living life on the edge of a cliff with nothing but confidence and a cheeky grin to keep him from falling. But it worked. It always worked. Every maniacal scheme – like jumping off a flight of stairs into the sand or climbing onto Simon Cowell’s roof just because he could – worked out for him, like it did for all of them when they backed him. He was magnetic and blinding and all this time Zayn could not only see but feel why Harry was with him, why Harry loved him, because Zayn did too. Louis, with all the fucks he couldn’t give about rules or risk or gravity or fear had a heart that beat for everyone. He had something to prove, just like Zayn did. He wanted everyone to know his name and love him like he loved the world – recklessly, unselfconsciously. It was a mission, a competition, to not only embrace life but demand it embrace him and Zayn, well. Zayn was just competitive. The moment Louis winked at him it clicked into place that this was just another one of Louis’s schemes, a game, to see how far Zayn would let him go.

Fuck it, Zayn thought as he caught Harry’s mouth again. Game on.

 

~

 

Harry’s cock felt nice in his hand. Zayn was sure it would feel weird, touching another guy like this, but it didn’t. It had more to do with Harry than the fact that he was a guy, more about how easily he let Zayn do this to him and how hot it was. That if you pressed your thumb here he shuddered, and if you rolled his balls in your hand he outright moaned.

“God, Haz,” Zayn breathed into his neck. Harry twisted his body where he was nestled in the v of Zayn’s legs, his head tilted back to rest on Zayn’s shoulder.

“Gorgeous, isn’t he,” Louis remarked. They were all down to their pants, Harry’s pushed down his legs to expose him, his skin heated where it touched Zayn’s. Louis ran his hands up Harry’s thighs and pulled his underwear down, threw it over his shoulder before he came forward on his knees. “Think he’s ready for some more?”

Zayn had heard people talk like this, the same ownership-power play through dialogue Louis was doing, but mostly in the kinkier movies. It sounded natural coming from Louis, though. He had that way about him, and Harry was so submissive, so agreeable to everything Louis said, that it wasn’t a joke. It was hot.

“Yeah,” Zayn agreed, “reckon so.”

Louis crouched over Harry’s cock, his hands on Harry’s hips to balance, and Harry lifted his head in time to see him swallow it down. He let out a strangled groan and his head fell back again. Zayn felt more than saw Louis’s mouth reach his own hand, lips stroking over it as he went down as far as he could. Between them Harry shuddered and twisted, caught in the middld of Louis’s mouth and Zayn's hands holding him steady. Zayn didn’t move his hand. He was there first.

Harry writhed in his arms, sweating now, skin slippery and overheated. Zayn massaged his balls with one hand, squeezed his dick gently with the other, and watched closely for Louis’s next move. Louis glanced up through his eyelashes, his eyes on Zayn even as he sucked up and down the length of Harry’s cock, as if this was for Zayn’s benefit. It made him wonder how far Louis’s irony reached through all his layers of humour and charade, and what was left of him when it was finally stripped away.

Harry began to outright pant; his fingers dug into Zayn’s leg and he unconsciously shifted back into Zayn’s erection where it dug into his spine, achingly hard and leaking. Zayn bit back a groan.

“Close, Harry?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck, so close,” Harry replied instantly, his voice low, strained. Each time his hips bucked Zayn felt it in his cock – both his and Harry’s – felt Louis struggle to keep up as he slipped and he pulled away with a pop. Harry groaned at the release, but Louis had already ducked his head to lap at his balls instead. Zayn let go of them out of courtesy for Louis but resumed pumping Harry’s dick, pressing in the right places, stroking at the right pace that Harry was still losing it. He didn’t know what it said about him that he was so comfortable with it, with this, able to pick it up so easily like he did with most things, but it felt good. To have that kind of power was exhilarating.

He felt wetness on his fingers that weren’t wrapped around Harry and the rough swipe of tongue as Louis sucked them into his mouth. And that, well – that had always been a favourite of Zayn’s. If he wasn’t already hard, that would’ve got him there. He zoned out for several seconds just watching Louis, feeling it, knowing he must have been tasting Harry, too. Zayn pushed his thumb between Louis's lips, testing, felt Louis’s teeth close gently on the pad.

Harry squirmed and pushed his face into Zayn’s neck. “Fucking – get on with it,” he rasped, but he didn’t bother raising his head or forcing Zayn’s hand.

“Pushy one, aren’t you,” Louis replied, but he was grinning as he said it, as he took Harry in his mouth again. It didn’t take much before Harry was coming, and Zayn got to feel his dick empty, his body shudder and slump, the trickle of come over his hand that spilled out of Louis’s mouth. Harry let out the breath he’d been holding, surprisingly quiet for such a loud guy.

Louis pulled back and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “And that, gentlemen, is how it’s done.”

Zayn laughed. “Show off.”

“Mind your tone Zayn, or you’ll get the same treatment.”

Louis was hard by now, straining in his shorts. The tone was light, playful, but Zayn was playing with matches and Louis was the spark, ready to set him alight. Zayn smirked at the challenge, didn’t say anything as Louis crept forward and kissed him over Harry’s shoulder, while he lay boneless between them. Louis kissed rougher, more demanding, salty and a little bit like Zayn tasted (when he was bored, just once) but a different -- flavour.

“So good,” Harry slurred, without looking at them. His eyes were closed and his head was turned away, but Zayn had to agree, not bad. Not bad at all.

 

~

 

“Is this ok?” Zayn asked, twisting his fingers. Harry gasped and Zayn took it as a yes. He turned and kissed the inside of Harry’s knee where it was hooked over his shoulder, aware of Louis watching them. Zayn glanced at him in time to see his look of surprise slip into one of indifference. “What?”

Louis pursed his lips. “Nothing.”

“You’re better’n him, at this,” Harry answered. He hummed agreeance to the fingers Zayn scissored inside him.

“Shuddup,” Louis snappped. Apparently it wasn’t all going to plan.

Zayn tried to hide his satisfaction and failed, outright smirking when Louis’s expression soured.

“Well, if I’m not needed here,” Louis started.

“You’re better at talking,” Harry added quickly, breathing shallow, his skin flushed all over. “You always say such dirty things.” His voice held a dream-like quality that could have been contributed by the orgasm he’d already had and the one he’d coaxed from Louis with his tongue. Rimming, they’d called it. Zayn had been skeptical, but not even Louis could fake that reaction.

“Too late,” Louis teased, “I’m certainly not gonna fuck you now. We’re getting Zayn here to do it. How do his fingers feel, babe, opening you up?” Harry groaned, from Zayn’s fingers or Louis’s words, it was hard to tell. “You think he’s gonna fuck you this slow? He’s certainly gentle. Almost too gentle, if you ask me. It’d be torture, him fucking you like that.”

Zayn made a bold move and slipped in a third finger. If he was going slow it was out of caution, respect, and also the complete lack of knowledge of what the hell he was doing. Louis was supposed to be coaching him, instead of getting off on his own voice. Zayn tried not to roll his eyes and instead focused on how naturally this came to him, how Harry was at once relaxed and writhing from just his fingers alone.

Louis continued, “No, no I don’t think he will. I think he’ll just hold you down and fuck you ‘til you’re sore. How about that, huh? Zayn riding you? ‘Til you’re aching and can’t walk for days.”

Ok, so Louis was pretty good at the whole talking dirty thing. The combination of it all had Zayn horny as all hell and ready to enact it, but his hesitation held him back.

“Would be -- ugh -- a nice change,” Harry gritted out cheekily.

“That’s it,” Louis ordered, feigning offense, “Zayn, let him have it.”

“Are you sure? Harry, is it ok now?”

Harry opened his eyes blearily. “Just fuck me, m’not gonna break.”

“Louis’s right, you are pushy.”

Harry dug his heel into Zayn’s back to urge him forward, before his leg slipped back onto the bed. He grabbed the condom Louis held out and pushed it into Zayn’s hands and Zayn could only comply -- through no fault of his own, clearly he was under emotional duress -- and slid the rubber on, groaned at the simultaneous sensations of Louis slicking up his cock and Harry grabbing his arse. He took a moment to line up, and then slid in.

It was tight, almost too tight for Zayn to handle, considering the prep he’d done, his vision whiting out as he inched forward. Harry moaned underneath him, pornographic noises, voice strained and body taut. His eyes scrunched up in what could have been pain, but when Zayn stopped Harry urged him to keep going. It took a couple minutes to adjust to Harry’s body until he was in fully, until their hips aligned and Zayn could breathe again.

“You can move now,” Louis prompted softly. Harry was beyond words; Zayn understood the feeling. He began to thrust, slowly and deliberately. He probably wasn’t going to last long, not with the build up or the way Harry’s body felt around him -- he hadn’t come yet, had waited for this. Harry underneath him, meeting his thrusts, moaning. It hit him then just how much, how long he had wanted this, and the force of it was staggering. Zayn lowered himself until their chests pressed together, pushing in until he was so far inside he couldn’t crawl back out, and Harry went loose, arching his back, scrabbling at Zayn’s shoulders with sweaty hands and blunt nails.

Louis muttered under his breath, consoling, supportive words that didn’t quite reach Zayn’s ear over his and Harry’s combined panting. After a while he became aware that Louis was stroking himself, getting himself off on watching them. Good. It felt good to know Louis was losing it, too.

As soon as he realised what Louis was doing, Zayn felt pressure start to take him over. The tightness in his balls, the shiver down his spine -- he tried not to turn his head, to keep his attention solely focused on Harry, hot and writhing beneath him, and not what Louis was doing with his own hands, or how he was looking at them. Harry picked up on it, sensed Zayn was cloe, wrapped his leg around Zayn’s waist while he used his other foot to push up and counterbalance Zayn’s thrusts. The rhythm was a little off, barely noticeable, not enough to slow or bother changing when it felt that good. Within minutes Zayn was coming. He gripped Harry’s hips hard enough for him to feel it and slammed in. He groaned, a ridiculous noise he didn’t bother to hold back, because what about the situation wasn’t ridiculous? His body shook with the force of it, muscles tensing for a long moment as he emptied himself. He practically collapsed on Harry, sweaty, sticky, fucked out, but polite enough to remember Harry’s erection where it dug into his stomach.

Harry didn’t seem to mind. He was still breathing raggedly, eyes open and glassy. His curls were plastered to his face with sweat, skin flushed and warm to the point where prolonged contact was unbearable, and he winced along with Zayn when Zayn pulled out.

Zayn crawled down his body until his face was centimetres from Harry’s cock, murmured “Can I?” into the crook of Harry’s hip. Under normal circumstances it might have been intimidating, but despite the orgasm Harry had just wrung out of him, he couldn’t help it: he wanted Harry’s cock.

Before Harry could answer, Louis cut in. "Let me, master Zayn. You've done well, but it's my turn again."

Zayn couldn’t help the surge of jealousy and competitiveness he felt -- that Louis got to have this, have Harry. That Harry would easily choose Louis over him every time. But it was short-lived. Truth be told he was tired, and he didn’t have to feel selfish if Harry got off one way or another.

Harry answered for him. His hand shot out and closed around Louis’s wrist, eyes bright and alert. “Wanna fuck you, Lou.”

Suddenly Zayn was looking at a different person. Where a minute before Harry had been near insensate and docile, he was now determined. The curse fell from his slack mouth without preamble. 

Louis’s face fell in reply. He glanced quickly at Zayn, then back to Harry. “I don’t -- that’s --” It looked like he was about to say “private”, as if they weren’t in the situation they were in, as if Zayn, Niall, and Liam hadn’t all walked in on them doing worse.

“Please, Louis,” Harry pleaded softly. Louis swallowed and nodded. “I’ll make it good for you, promise.”

In an instant, Louis’s smirk returned. “You always do, babe.”

Zayn shuffled back on the bed until Harry had enough room to get up, and caught a glimpse of his handiwork: Harry’s hole stretched wide, his cock at full mast. Zayn remembered the condom, pulled it off and tied it, only to chuck it on the floor to deal with later.

Harry was up on his knees and pulling Louis up with him until they were kissing, running their hands over each other, Harry gripping Louis and kissing him with a ferocity that contradicted his passive nature. Zayn was transfixed by it, this sudden turning of tables that started with a request and turned into Harry taking, and Louis submitting. They were again so wrapped up in each other, consumed to the point where Zayn had to wonder if they’d forgotten about him completely. It was a moment of surprising intimacy, and Zayn was left feeling excluded; it wasn’t a moment for him.

Before he could dwell on it, Harry cut the silence. “Lie down,” he told Louis, and when Louis complied, pressing his face into the mattress, Harry turned to Zayn with a grin. “Could always use another practical demonstration, right?”

Louis groaned into the sheets.

 

~

 

When Zayn woke up several hours later, it was to the sound of Harry’s muffled snores into the pillow. Sometime in the night the comforter had slipped away, and while Louis and Zayn were warm enough wrapped around each other, it left Harry, who was off to Zayn’s right and curled in on himself, out in the cold. Zayn watched him for a minute, listened to his adorably pathetic mewling as he huddled down into the mattress. A protective fondness stirred in his chest at the sight. After a minute he felt bad enough to take pity and rearranged the blankets until all of them were covered.

Harry settled and Zayn’s heart swelled a little. In the morning they had more of the routine -- more signings, more rehearsals, more singing -- but right now, they had this. And, for now, that was enough.


End file.
